


10-4

by hdarchive



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, kid!klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Kurt doesn’t know why he feels so happy when he looks at him, why he wants to smile and never stop smiling when he sees him, but he does, and suddenly he doesn’t want to cry anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	10-4

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try and upload more of my stuff here!

 

The bus lets him off on the corner of his street, and it’s once he’s alone and almost home that he lets himself cry.

He refuses to cry in front of his classmates and he refuses to cry inside his house where his dad could see him. He wishes he could refuse it right now, walking down the snow-covered street, but he’s not that strong. His eyes sting and his throat hurts from holding it back all day long, so tears form and travel down his face, bitter with the cold.

Almost nearing his front yard, he passes by the Anderson’s house, walking quicker because he can’t stop sniffling and Blaine is outside playing and he doesn’t want to be seen.

“Kurt!” Blaine yells, and Kurt takes a second to look over his shoulder, watching as Blaine stops pushing a giant snowball and rests on it. “I’m making a snow fort, wanna help?”

He pulls his backpack up higher, flicks his scarf over his shoulder and continues to walk, pace quickening, and mumbles, “I don’t feel like playing, Blaine.”

Snow crunches under his footsteps, soon joined by Blaine's, and then Blaine is following Kurt across the street and into his yard.

“What do you mean you don’t feel like playing?” Blaine asks, sounding worried, and he reaches out to grab at Kurt’s elbow, holding him back. “It’s Christmas break now! We can play all day!”

Kurt swallows, blinks his eyes, he’s good at this, he can hide this. He’s been hiding it for so long -

“I’ve decided I’m not celebrating Christmas anymore,” he says slowly, quietly, throat catching on every word.

He fixes his stare on the ground, kicks at the snow with his boot and he can feel the burn of Blaine’s glare, the lift of his eyebrow as he asks, “You mean you’re Jewish now?”

“No, Blaine!” Kurt shouts, tilting his head back to stare at the sky, keeping the tears in.

“Kurt, were you crying?”

“No, Blaine!”

Sounding more frantic, more confused, Blaine continues, “Because that’s what it looks like!”

Kurt wipes over his eyes with his gloves, huffs out his breath so he doesn’t scream. “No, I wasn’t - shut up!”

Blaine steps in front of him, wrapping his gloved hands around Kurt’s wrists to pull them away. “It’s alright if you were, Kurt, I won’t tell.”

He sighs, shakes his head, because as much as he loves being Blaine’s friend, this isn’t something Blaine can fix. Blaine doesn’t know the kids at his school or how many friends Kurt has - Blaine probably has  _millions_ , and he probably doesn’t even like Kurt as much as Kurt likes him -

A piece in his chest cracks, breaks, and he’s going to cry again if he doesn’t get inside, so he steps around Blaine and continues up the path to his house.

Only to be hit, right in the arm, snow exploding after impacting his side, followed by Blaine’s tyrannical laughter.

He feels his face heat up, turning bright red as he spins around, words pointed on his tongue as he yells, “Blaine! I’m not allowed to get this coat dirty!”

Blaine curls over, slapping at his leg, laughing and shaking his head. He yells back, “I bet you can’t hit me!”

The snow is picking back up, large flakes falling from a grey sky, and maybe if he runs fast enough he won’t cry, he won’t hurt - and besides, he can  _totally_  hit Blaine.

“I bet I can!” he shouts, dropping his backpack on the front porch before leaping down the steps, thundering through the snow to chase after Blaine, who’s trying to run far and fast but he’s wearing snowpants and boots, giggling too loudly and out of breath.

Kurt bends over to pick up a handful of snow, trying to form a snowball in his hands, flinging it with all his strength at Blaine, but misses when he dives sideways.

“ _\- can’t - catch - me -_ ” Blaine calls over his shoulder, steps slowing as he heaves out his breath. Kurt speeds up, kicking snow this way and that, before jumping forward and tackling him, both of them landing forwards in the snow.

Kurt quickly sits up, fumbling for snow, packing it in his hands before leaning over Blaine and squishing it into his face, Blaine’s toque falling off as he shakes his head violently.

Blaine laughs as he tosses and turns, and Kurt smiles so wide it hurts, smothering the snow across Blaine’s face, adding more to his hair, unable to hold back the giggles now - warm and bursting and bright in his chest, so much better than crying.

“Got you!” Kurt cheers, settling back to lean on his hands as Blaine sits up, shaking the snow out of his curls. “Told you I could get you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Blaine says, standing up and emptying the snow out of his toque. “Maybe I let you get me, though.”

Kurt stands, brushing off his coat, and he asks with a smile, “So what you’re really saying is that you let me shove snow in your face?”

They move together towards Kurt’s front porch, sitting down on the stairs. Blaine nudges his side, grinning. “Okay, okay, fine. You got me.”

The tip of Blaine’s nose is red, eyes bright and there are snowflakes stuck in his eyelashes, melting with every blink. And Kurt doesn’t know why he feels so happy when he looks at him, why he wants to smile and never stop smiling when he sees him, but he does, and suddenly he doesn’t want to cry anymore.

He looks away, feeling every bit of sadness pile up and try to burst free, smile faltering before it’s gone.

Blaine takes Kurt’s hand, sets it on his leg, starts to wipe the snow off his glove as he asks, hesitantly, “Now can you tell me why you were you crying?”

Kurt bites on his lip, replays the events of today in his mind before shaking his head. “It’s stupid.”

“If you’re crying, it can’t be stupid.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“I’m not a bully, Kurt.”

He flexes his hand in Blaine’s hold, moves it away and folds both between his legs. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Blaine, but saying the words out loud - makes it that much more real and he doesn’t want to be reminded  _again_  and  _Blaine can’t fix it._

"Okay . .” Kurt starts, voice soft, and for some reason Blaine’s trying to grab his hand again, so Kurt lets him. He kind of likes that, too, maybe even more than Blaine’s smile. It makes him not hurt so badly. “We were supposed to give our gifts to our Secret Santas today. Only . . . I didn’t get one.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Blaine’s head tilt to the side, his scrunched up eyebrows and the pout of his lips. “Why?”

He does break then, right down to the center of his voice, rasping and sniffling as he chokes out, “Because nobody wanted to give me one.”

Saying the truth hurts, like a kick to the shin, the stomach, and he blinks furiously, staring down at his and Blaine’s joined hands. Blaine takes his gloves off, shoving his coat sleeves up, and then he’s using his thumb to gently rub over the back of Kurt’s hand, the way he does when Kurt falls down and gets hurt or when he really misses his mom -

“Hmm,” Blaine hums, using his free hand to tap at his chin. “Maybe Santa told them not to? Because maybe he’s getting you something big! Like a puppy!”

It’s impossible to not giggle when Blaine’s eyes grow wide and his face starts to glow, when his voice gets high pitched with excitement.

Cold hands, frozen fingers, he tries to hold back onto Blaine’s, whispering with a sniffle, “I’d like that.”

They both look up, and this time Kurt doesn’t wipe away at his tears, all he can do is smile and laugh when Blaine makes a funny face, bumping into his side.

“But, um, maybe if you wanted, I could give you your gift earlier?” Blaine asks, almost sounding shy.

With wide eyes, heart stopping, Kurt asks back, “You got me a gift?”

Blaine bumps his side once more, looking almost offended for a second. “Of course, silly. I’ll go get it.”

Kurt sits in bewilderment, heart beating way too fast now, excitement strumming at his insides, and he watches as Blaine bounds across the front yard, up to his own steps, stomping on the mat to shake off the last traces of snow before he’s gone.

He wishes Blaine went to his school, and that they could be friends there, too. He’s so tired of feeling lonely and sad, and the highlight of his day has always been coming home to see Blaine. Maybe they’ll go to the same high school as each other, or maybe one day he’ll meet more people who are just as nice, but -

There’s nobody out there like Blaine, really, so that’d be impossible.

He hears a door slam, Blaine running back out of his house, mittens dangling from his jacket and a box in arms.

He’s out of breath when he gets back to Kurt, presenting the box to him, wrapped in pretty green wrapping paper, tied neatly with a bow.

“I got my mom to wrap it because I wanted it to be perfect,” he says, offering it forward.

Kurt takes it with shaking hands, settling it down and staring at it. He feels butterflies in his stomach, desperately trying to escape, a jump to his pulse, and he’s breathless but he hasn’t done  _anything_.

“I - I - thank you, Blaine.”

“You don’t even know what it is!” Blaine yells, almost nervously, bumping Kurt’s foot with his boot. “It could be anything! Dancing squirrels or a live snake -”

Kurt says, so quiet he hopes Blaine can’t hear, “But it’s from you.”

He looks up just in time to see Blaine bite over his lip, masking his smile as his cheeks flare red. Blaine takes his toque off, wringing it in his hands before pulling it back over his curls. “I hope you like it.”

Kurt slips his own gloves off, afraid to rip it the wrong way, to wreck the beautiful wrapping that Blaine’s mother must have worked hard on. He finds a corner, lifts the tape gently, and unwraps it until he’s left with a box.

“It’s a walkie talkie,” Blaine says when Kurt’s opened the box. “I have the other one, so we can talk after bedtime, or maybe even before school.”

His heart - which has felt like breaking a million times today - breaks again, but this time it doesn’t hurt, it swells, beats louder and harder and he feels warm from head to toe. But warm with what - ?

“Blaine - you’re - you’re so smart,” Kurt babbles, head shaking back and forth, holding the walkie talkie up to his face. “I love it! Thank you.”

His eyes meet Blaine’s, but Blaine looks away too soon, smiling down at his feet.

Kurt can’t imagine anyone else making him feel this way, nobody would ever come close. The kids at school suck, but even if they didn’t, they’d never be Blaine - and maybe he’ll just have to deal with it. But holding Blaine’s present and holding Blaine’s hand and maybe he really isn’t alone, somebody out there cares -

He lifts the walkie talkie to his mouth, holds down the button and asks, “Blaine, do you read me? Do you want to come inside for hot chocolate? Over.”

Smiling at Blaine like that, and having Blaine smile back - it’s hard to imagine that there was ever a time where he felt broken.

Blaine reaches out for Kurt’s hand, pulling him up off the steps and to his feet, and says, “That’ll be a big ten-four, Kurt. Over.”


End file.
